Overlap
by dunnoifGraluorNalu
Summary: A collection of fics written for MakoRin Week 2015 [Day 1: Rin's never been one to believe in the notion of love at first sight, but this boy smiles like a daydream and now Rin is pretty darn sure that he can come close to, at least. FutureFish!AU]
1. Day 1: (Lost) (Home)

**Helloooo! Before I'm pelted with tomatoes for writing new** **things while neglecting my older fics, I'd like to say: I'll get back to them, I promise ;w;** **This is written for the MakoRin Week event ehe... cross-posted from AO3 and Tumblr! The title is shamelessly taken from a song by Falloutboys hee. And I own nothing.**

 _ **Day 1:** Lost / Home _

_**[ You Were The Last Good Thing About This Part Of Town]**_

 _Rin's never been one to believe in the notion of love at first sight, but this boy smiles like a daydream and now Rin is pretty darn sure that he can come close to, at least._

 _ **/or/**_

 _In which Makoto is new and lost, and Rin is a policeman who's trying really hard to give a shit about clueless newbies and purse-losing grandmas in a tiny town._

* * *

"Um…hi. I'm new to town, and I'm kind of lost."  
The first thing Rin registers is that _damn the guy at the counter has green eyes_.  
Like really, _really_ green eyes that normal people wouldn't have the luck to _just_ chance upon—the kind of fresh green that would hit you like a speeding truck going a thousand miles per hour, knocking you right off your feet and against the brick wall; steal the bruising breath from your lips like copper pennies from a blind man's pocket.  
He's faintly aware of himself licking his lips, reaching under the table to draw out a crinkled map, as the voices in his head chant in synchrony, "Green eyes, green eyes, really-really-frickin'-green eyes".  
"Yes. Um. Here." _God_ , it's like his ability to pronounce words has regressed pathetically, leaving him to gabble in syllables of a foreign tongue.  
Mr. Very Green Eyes blinks up at him, angling his head ever-so-slightly, ever-so-gently to the left – in a dainty way that _had_ to be impossible for people his build – as he voices, "Well, I already have a map." Raising the map that had been clenched in his fist a moment ago, he continues, smiling, "See?"  
 _Jesus_. Rin's never been one to believe in the notion of love at first sight, but this boy smiles like a daydream and now Rin is pretty darn sure that he can come close to, at least.  
"Right." Rin garbles, and thinks to himself that he _really_ needs to get away before he blushes himself into an early grave—because goddamnit, a smile like that had to be a crime. "Er. One moment. I'll go um, grab our resident map-reading expert. He'll sort you out."  
Stumbling back into the office, he tugs on the sleeve of the first person he sees – coincidentally his snoozing partner – gesturing vaguely towards the still-waiting male at the counter, and sinks into his chair, feeling very much screwed.  
Blinking groggily at him, Sousuke draws himself up from his cozy seat. He downs the remainder of his coffee – extra-dark, _yuck_ – before wandering out. There's a bit of silence as Rin waits, occasionally interrupted by the mild exchange going on outside. Rin covers his eyes with the back of his hand and groans out-loud, pretending not to hear the suppressed noise of curiosity many desks behind him—Seijuro, no doubt.  
Finished, Sousuke wanders back in again, leaning against the door as he begins—in a knowing voice that was equal parts amused and exasperated, "Resident map-reading expert? _Really_?"  
"You could use some practice."  
"Are you _sure_ you want to put me in charge of a map? We'll both end up in Egypt or something, you know."  
Rin makes a strangled sound that was supposed to be "I can't deal with this."  
"What, you got the hots for the lost soul standing outside and now you don't have the guts to bring him around? Pathetic." Sousuke remarks, reading Rin's mind the way he always does, and sounding very much pleased with himself.  
"Shut _up_." Rin grouses.  
All the way across the room (and with completely no part in the conversation, dammit), Seijuro takes the initiative to comment from his too-small cubicle, a winning grin on his face like frickin' sunshine and manly sparkles, "Oi, be a man and help that lost soul, Matsuoka!"  
Rin peeks from behind his fingers, a sigh leaving his lips and he forces out a muffled "Do I have to?" that was very much riddled with loathing undertones of _fuck you all very much_ and _fuck this life_.  
"I'm your big boss. Plus, you don't have anything to do anyway, do you?" Seijuro says critically.  
"Uh," Rin starts, pulling out the pile of overdue paperwork that he's probably never going to finish, then blanching when he realises that they have already been filled up and stamped accordingly. He really needs to remember to treat Ai someday.  
"Do you?" his big boss presses, and Rin sighs, surrendering to his sad fate.

* * *

"Oh. Hello again." is how he is greeted, as he drags his suffering soul back outside to meet the man once more.  
Mr-Very-Green-Eyes sounds so _pleased_ to see him again—there is a bubbly edge to his voice which presence Rin cannot even _begin_ to fathom.  
"Yes. Hi." he states, still slapping himself in his mind, and stops short of actually slamming his head on the wall because the brunette gives him the happiest look on earth right then, pointing to a spot on his huge map and smiling like the world is made from marshmallows. Rin squints, bending down, and identifies the spot tucked somewhere between streets that he vaguely knows. It should be a piece of cake.  
"Here." Mr Green-Eyes says, "I know the address of my house, but the roads are really confusing. I'd appreciate it if you could show me the way."  
"Oh, okay." he replies simply, still watching the way the smile smoothes out the male's face in the gentle light, softening the curves of his cheekbones and the edges of his lips. "I'll walk you there then."  
"Thank you. By the way, I'm Tachibana Makoto." Mr-Green-Eyes-Also-Now-Known-As-Tachibana-Makoto says, perking up as he rubs the back of his neck. "May I have your name, Officer-san?"  
"M-Matsuoka Rin." he says, but his stunned mind is still repeating the words 'Officer-san, Officer-san' like a temple prayer on a stormy day. "Er, nice to meet you."  
Makoto opens his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a loud snigger from behind them, courtesy of one rude big boss who had no sense of timing whatsoever. Jesus.  
"Have a nice trip, Matsuoka!" Seijuro hoots with gusto from his table, followed by a round of merry laughter and god, Rin swears to himself that he'll have all their heads when he gets back, stuffed and mounted under his table as footstools.  
Scowling, he pushes open the door and steps out, only vaguely aware of Makoto struggling to heave both his heavy suitcases (whoa, Rin didn't even notice them before) down the steps.  
"You need some help?" he asks, hands on his hips as Makoto's face turns into the likes of a tomato, stammering slightly as his fingers slip over the handles of his luggage.  
"I – no – I'm fine, thank you."  
Raising an eyebrow, Rin chooses not to press.

* * *

And, well, to be painfully honest, the first few minutes of their walk is awkward as heck.  
The wheels of Makoto's obviously-crappy-as-fuck luggage bags catch one too many times on little pebbles on the pavement, and he winds up seated on the concrete, watching as Makoto tries to pick the jammed stones from the wheels with a stick, a frown crinkling between his brows (and oh, frowns are _such_ a terrible look on him, really). Rin doesn't really know what to do, doesn't have anything to say, so he seals his lips shut, swallows a little sigh, and waits as the silence between them grows pointedly thicker.  
Eventually they – Makoto, namely – manage to heave the bags further down the road, and Makoto sinks against a fence, lips pursed as if hiding his exhaustion—and to give him due credit, those bags did look awfully heavy, even for someone Makoto's build.  
Rin levels him with a slightly disapproving look. "You sure you don't need help with those?"  
The brunette shakes his head hard, soft hair flopping over his eyes. He blows them away with a gentle huff, "No, no. I'm fine, really. I don't want to trouble you."  
Sighing, Rin sweeps up his falling bangs and pinches his nose with his free hand, exhaling, "Trouble me? At the rate we're moving, you'd be troubling me a whole lot more if you keep this up." His gaze turns slightly wicked. "Y'know what? I'd carry _you_ and your luggage both if I have to. So hand it over."  
Makoto looks slightly stunned, his cheeks clouding with a pink that was lovely to behold (in Rin's opinion, at least), and breaking into another of his resigned smiles. "Oh. Well um, thank you then. For offering to carry my luggage. Not me." He draws out a low, low chuckle. "I don't think you'd be able to carry me, really."  
Rin swallows a cheeky 'Bet I could', snorts, and reaches over to catch his fingers on one of the luggage bags. "Maybe."  
He watches as Makoto tugs the remaining bag along, taking a few merry steps before whirling around and asking cautiously, molten eyes burning into his. "So, do you do this often?"  
They've fallen into a nice pace, dragging the bags behind them as the light gleaned from the sky and skittered across the pavement, settling around them in cheerful hues.  
"Do what?"  
Makoto has a habit of playing with the strap of his bag, fingers sliding down the buckles whenever he talks. His nails catch on a loose thread as he shrugs, "Bring lost people around?"  
"Well, I guess. There isn't much excitement in small towns like this."  
"You'd rather work with danger?" Makoto sounds genuinely puzzled, as if he'd never considered it.  
"Yeah. I'm a policeman. Danger's practically my middle name, so why the hell not?" Rin says, amusement soft in his eyes. "Wouldn't you?"  
Their gazes meet for a fraction of a second, and Rin catches something like genuine surprise in lively green, before Makoto draws away, looking pleasantly shy. "No, not really."  
A pause.  
"What's life here like then?"  
Rin blinks. Makoto's bangs have tumbled over his eyes messily, and Rin takes a second to look away, trying to hide the heat on his cheeks as Makoto fixates him with a positively earnest look. He curls his fingers under his chin, taking about three seconds to come up with a painfully honest reply. "Boring as fuck."  
Makoto does not wince at his language, tilting his head to a side instead, as if seeking elaboration. Rin would go on too, if he had any idea how to do so. He can only shrug noncommittally, before stating, "I dunno, it's bland. Like I said, nothing really happens here. It's quiet, but in a way that's really more boring than peaceful, especially when you've run out of places to see, y'know?"  
"And have you? Run out of places to see, that is."  
"Kind of," Rin admits, grip tightening on the handles of Makoto's suitcase. "I've been around so much that the sights are getting kinda stale. But people? Not so much. There're always new people, see?"  
Makoto makes a little 'o' with his round lips, before curving his smile up, just slightly. "New people? Like me?"  
Rin nods, returning a small smile of his own. "You, especially."  
And Makoto blushes, like he's taken it as a compliment.

* * *

It turns out Makoto's new home is a small flat, tucked all the way in the corner of a silent street. Rin's seen it before—he'd once made small talk with the kindly old lady who used to owned it. The 'for sale' sign has been peeled away, leaving bits of beige plastered on the sky blue door.  
Makoto takes a moment to take in the whitewashed walls, the well-soaped windows, the pots and pots of morning glories that cheerily line the paved floor, and a crooked smile tugs on the side of his lips.  
"It's not very impressive, is it?" Rin remarks, to which Makoto offers a small shrug.  
"Well, it'll do." And – if Rin may add – it's practically disappointing, how he sounds so utterly content. "It's more than what I expected, honestly, so I'm thankful."  
"Suit yourself," Rin says, dragging Makoto's suitcase on the raggedy welcome mat. A dried leaf crinkles under his step, the sound brokenly harsh in the silent vicinity. "I'll uh...leave this here then."  
"Okay," Makoto reaches over, brushing on his fingers briefly as he tugs the bags into the flat with him. Rin catches sight of worn brown flooring, and a hint of dust lingers in the air, tinged with a mellow warmth, before Makoto turns back around, unintentionally blocking his view once more.  
Rin swallows a breath.  
"Thanks for coming all the way with me. And um, carrying my luggage. You've been a huge help." Makoto tilts his head and curves his gentle eyes into a smile—a genuinely bright one this time, and Rin thinks that _oh_ , he gives his pretty smiles away far too easily.  
Waving a lazy hand, Rin says, fighting a modest laugh, "Sure. You're welcome."  
"Well then, I'll see you around town, Rin!" Makoto grins, holding the door open as he waves. Rin blinks, for the umpteenth time, trying to memorise how it looked on him, the way light danced off the little dimples pulling on his cheeks. "For sure!"  
"Yeah. For sure." he echoes before he can stop himself, then pulls his hat down to hide the red of his cheeks as Makoto turns to gently swing the door shut.  
("Welcome home, Makoto," Rin whispers unwittingly when he thinks brunette isn't listening, but before the door closes, he catches another curve on Makoto's soft lips that is wider than it's supposed to be.)  
The damn blush lasts all the way back to the station.

* * *

 **I guess this fic is both Makoto being lost and being brought to his (new) home ehe...  
Oh I'm so unforgivably late with this and I have no excuse ;v; I hope ppl enjoyed this nonetheless. Do leave a review, if you like.  
I'll get the next chapter (day 2) up as soon as I finish it...aha... Tootles~!**


	2. Day 2: (Fate) (Mythical) part 1

**Helloooo! Guh I'm a thousand years late and this was hell to write. I wanted to include a bunch of characters but ended up making this a beast ;m; I apologize for the huuuuge lack of actual MakoRin here but I promise I promise that those babies will be together next chapter!**  
 **Also, some context:**  
 **Dryad: a tree nymph, or tree spirit, in Greek mythology.**  
 **Hamadryad: a Greek mythological being that lives in trees. Hamadryads are born bonded to a certain tree.**  
 **Naiad: a type of water nymph who presides over fountains, wells, springs, streams, brooks and other bodies of fresh water.**  
 **Faun: a half human–half goat manifestation of forest and animal spirits that would help or hinder humans at whim.**

 _ **Day 2** : Fate / Mythical_

 ** _[O Wild One] (part 1)_**  
 _No matter how hard he tries to break free of this slumber, his limbs feel heavy, as if they're aching for a sleep that will never quite sate him—and there is nothing he wants more than to be found.  
 **/or/**  
There is a deity asleep on the mountain, and Makoto goes looking for him._

* * *

It's a little hard to _not_ notice, but the mountain is dying.

Spring has just arrived, yet the leaves are already shrivelling into themselves. Curling into their folds, as if afraid of the warm wind and even-warmer days, before falling from their trees, red and brown and _red_ like the dried blood of fragile humans. It pains Makoto to the core when he sees the bare branches on some of his trees—little saplings that he's raised with his own fingers, hoping to one day see them flourish and bloom into a myriad of soft colours.

It's barely autumn, but the mountain is already painted with the nasty orange-brown of char and copper and fire, a dirty red-gold that verges bronze, reminding the dryad unpleasantly of unpolished medals that victorious humans would wear around their necks. Red trickles from the trees, speckled here-and-there with an occasional green, wind-tossed and swept by the breeze into every nook and cranny of the forest, dancing across the surfaces of Haru's stream (they take hours to clean out, _jeez_ ) and carpeting the forest floor in dry leaves that crinkle with every footstep.

Makoto doesn't understand. He can't help but worry because he hasn't done anything _wrong_. He waters his trees daily, cares for them, spends hours and hours chasing off the bugs on their barks—he doesn't understand why they still seem to die one b"y one, as if having taken a cruel liking to his despaired (yet oddly-comedic) wails.

* * *

It's about two weeks later when Makoto realises that his forest may not be as doomed as he previously thought. He remembers hearing from the wind, a long while back, about how a wise tree had taken root on the far end of the forest, just by the sacred grove on the other side. He'd kept the knowledge away in him, buried under more significant things, but all of the sudden it all falls together—his only hope is the wise tree by the sacred grove, who might just know what is going on.

He nearly drops the bird nest amidst his frantic thoughts, only to receive a displeased peck from the chicks inside. Stammering, he places them gingerly back on the tree, before retreating to think again.

The weather is getting warmer, without a single hint of cold, yet the leaves continue falling as if nearing the brink of autumn. Makoto is having a hard time coaxing the animals from hibernating, and Haru's stream is slowly drying up in the humid weather, serving as more worry. Without help, it's only a matter of time before his forest fully withers away to the ground, crumpling into gnarled tangles of red and gold—a beautiful yet cruelly-heartbreaking sight in the distance.

He lets out a depressed sigh, and decides to pay a visit to the wise tree before his forest finally falls apart underneath his feet.

* * *

 **Rin**

 _He's been asleep for so long, he's already forgotten what warmth feels like. There'd been a hug, a long time ago, and a smile that mirrored his, but they are only fractures of a memory and they do not feel like anything except incoherence. His insides, right down to the soil of his bones, they're all yearning for a fire that he cannot kindle on his own._

 _It's really dark, where he is. He opens his eyes and sees the unending black of starless skies that swallows him whole into its cruel throat. He can't quite remember if it's day or night, or if such concepts exist in the place he lies. He lost count quite a while ago, and remembering is such a hassle—he might be ancient, but like all other important things, he does not know either. Perhaps it does not matter._

 _He breathes out, but it feels colder than ever, right down to his very last scale. He has so, so many questions but he doesn't have enough answers—he'd lost them all ages and ages ago. (Someone once told him that he was far too careless, but who? Who?)_

 _The outside world is riddled with a multitude of gentle pulses, moving in their own rhythm and song, yet completely in harmony with one another. He thinks sullenly to himself, **how irritating it must be, to be so utterly full of life**. He'll blow each wisp out, one by one, crushing them where they are. _

_But all of the sudden he feels so tired again, and there is absolutely no delight at all._

 _His throat is dry, and he closes his eyes—but breathing is such a hassle, killing is such a hassle... he'll just go back to sleep, he'll just go back to sleep. The way he always does._

* * *

The trip to the other side of the forest is fast, not that Makoto ever expected it to be otherwise. The path yields under his touch, trees leaning away to guide him in the right direction.

Eventually, he finds himself in a small glade, slightly confused, for the trees here strangely do not listen to him, even as he tries again to coax the direction from them. It's truly puzzling, for this forest is his dominion—unless, he has unwittingly wandered into another spirit's territory. The wind combs the trees, breathing against his ear but it, too, is of no help.

He places a hand on smooth bark, gleaning what he can, but finds nothing and finally understands that the wise tree must've hidden its location quite well. Understandable—for there are many who would squander its wisdom for their own gain.

It's a depressing dead-end, apparently. For both his trip, and his forest.

"Why hello there." There is a rustle just as Makoto sinks onto the soft grass in defeat, and a faun peeks from behind the tree to grin cheekily at him. "Are you lost? I'm Nagisa."

"Oh," is all Makoto replies, eyes round as he takes in Nagisa's cloven hooves and slender horns, curling around his temples like delicate ornaments. He has never seen a faun before—it has been said that they were becoming quite a rarity, as they hid themselves from mortals and spirit-folk well. "My name is Makoto. I didn't know there were fauns around."

Nagisa gives him another glittering grin, nodding his head and shaking loose the intricate flowers woven in his flaxen hair, like gleaming pearls of moonlight. "We come and go. Anyway, I know you! You're the nymph in charge of the forest, aren't you?"

Makoto blinks, puzzled. "How do you know?"

The faun gives him a _look_. "You cry really loudly when your trees die," Nagisa points out rather cruelly, a slight quirk to his lips as he rests on the crinkly grass. "The birds complain to me all the time."

Blushing, Makoto retreats into a tree, sinking into the comforting wood such that only the scarlet tips of his ears show as he stammers, a touch of slight humiliation in his voice, "I-I'm really sorry." How _embarrassing_ _!_

Nagisa giggles aloud, tossing aside his flute to pull on Makoto's ears teasingly, and beaming when the latter lets out a painful yelp, "That's okay. It's just really funny, that's all!"

"So what brings you to this side of the forest? I've been around for ages and I've never seen you around!" Nagisa hops onto the rock, folding his legs to give Makoto (who'd finally extricated himself from the trunk of the tree) a quizzical glance, roseate irises sparkling in curiosity.

"I'm looking for the wise tree. Um, as you know, my forest is dying out and I really, really need help." Makoto confesses.

"Wise tree?" the blonde wrinkles a brow, as if deep in contemplation. "Oh! You mean Rei-chan?"

"...Rei...chan?"

"Yep! He's the hamadryad of that olive tree right over there—see the tall branches? Oh, and Rei-chan's nearly a thousand years old by now, but he's still kind of stupid at times – in a wise way, of course." Nagisa gabbles, launching himself onto Makoto's shoulders to steer him in the right direction.

In the next few minutes, he quickly learns that Nagisa is spontaneous, talkative and very, _very_ loud. It's not a bad thing, because he appreciates it when he doesn't have to do all the talking, but Nagisa's chatter is endless and completely random in a way that is fresh and genuine—if not slightly stunning. He brings Makoto though an incredibly detailed breakdown of all the creatures in their grove, and _gosh_ did all fauns talk so much, or was it just Nagisa?

He nods gently as the faun points out the eighth species of wildflower they've seen, chittering delightfully as they make a turn around the trees. It's not that he dislikes the conversation, but for the sake of his ears, he hopes to get there soon.

* * *

'Rei-chan' the Hamadryad is nothing like Makoto imagines.

In his mind, Makoto pictures the wise tree to be a weathered old thing, wrinkled to the roots with scars by the wind, twisty and knobbly with age. He'd imagined perhaps a dark brown bark, with a sliver of hued silver in the sun, bending low against the sunrise to shield from the light.

Instead, 'Rei-chan' stands tall and mighty, facing the bold horizon, the tops of his gnarled fingers stretching out towards the clear sky—and Makoto thinks that he might just brush it, briefly, with his willowy branches. His girth is thick and sinewed with fine veins, the slighest of purple hinted in his smooth bark, his leaves dewy and supple in the kind wind.

It's no wonder that he is a wise tree. He is no frail little thing, wasting by the years, but a mighty hamadryad that has spent a thousand years gaining strength, as if daring to break though the skies and into the realm of Zeus himself. Makoto swallows his awe, and thinks that he should've brought an offering, at least.

Upon closer approach, 'Rei-chan' the hamadryad is...apparently also grappling with a weed that has wrapped its tendrils around the base of his roots.

...It's all rather anticlimactic.

"Nagisa-kun!" the hamadryads reprimands, arms flailing wildly as he struggles, "Stop staring and come help me—oh, who's this?"

"I'm Makoto," Makoto starts rather awkwardly, both their gazes dropping onto the weed, searching for a reply that would never quite sound right.

"I am Ryuugazaki Rei of the Olive. You're a forest dryad, correct? I'm a hamadryad. In other words, you're free to move around...while I'm a little stuck in my tree." Rei coughs.

"Oh. _Oh_. One second." Makoto realises, and blushes at his little idiocy. He should've figured out that Rei needed help, really.

They spend about ten minutes trying to dredge the weed from the ground, only to realise its roots were very much tangled with Rei's. Amidst petrified howls of "My flawless complexion has been ruined!" and "Hold me, Nagisa-kun!", Makoto manages to coax it away, finally pulling it out of the ground.

As much as he wants to spend the next thirty-or-so minutes searching the forest for a nice spot to plant the weed so that it can continue growing without affecting the larger trees in the vicinity, he can't. He's short on time, and, after casting an apologetic look at the poor plant, he sets it down on his lap, determined to help it out after he consults Rei.

He hides a chuckle as Nagisa launches himself onto the wise tree, climbling his lithe way up to the hamadryad's branches and swinging his hooves cheerfully as Rei positively squawks. Despite his angry yells, Makoto can't help but notice that the both of them are affectionate creatures.

"N-NAGISA-KUN!"

"So how did – uh," Makoro starts, gesturing at the both of them, "how did the two of you meet?"

"I caught this imbecile pilfering my olive." Rei says shortly, adjusting the pieces of glass over his eyes.

"He threatened to feed me to a panther." Nagisa adds in good cheer. "It was all really fun until the panther actually came."

Makoto's eyes widen.

Rei lets out a disgruntled harrumph, making evident that the topic isn't one he'd like to discuss. His cheeks colour with a light blush as he interrupts, "That's quite enough information for a day. Besides," his gazes focuses on Makoto, who shrinks away slightly, "you have some questions for me, do you not?"

"Oh. Oh, yes." Makoto starts, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "Well... our mountain is dying. I've been doing what I can, but my trees keep withering away and I don't understand! I'm not sure what I've been doing wrong, and I'm sorry for coming here without a single notice—it's just that this has never happened before!"

Makoto breaks off, indignant tears beginning to drip from the sides of his eyes, and he doesn't care to rub them away. Blinking furiously, he looks back up at Rei. The nymph squints critically at the ground, folding his arms over his torso as he sinks deeper into his tree, deep in thought.

When he speaks up, his voice is low. "We have a new mountain god. He's been slumbering for a few years now, and I assume he's finally starting to wake up."

"So...you're saying it's his fault?" Makoto asks, incredulous. He blanches when Rei gives a quick nod, lips pursed. "Isn't he the new guardian of this mountain? He's supposed to watch over us, right? Why are all the trees dying all of a sudden, then?" Makoto demands.

"Watch over us?" Rei says, slightly derisively. "No, not quite. Since this is an entirely new god, he's free to decide what he wants to do now that he's taken over the mountain. As a new guardian, he might chose to make some... _changes_."

"Changes?!" Makoto echoes in abject horror. "What _kind_ of changes?"

Rei adjusts his seeing-glasses. His voice is awfully sorry when he says, "Seeing as to how the trees are dying at an exponential rate now, it _is_ probable that he does not intend to keep the forests."

"WHAT?!"

* * *

"—and Rei said to look for the deity and convince him to stop killing all my trees and make the weather right again so now I've got to figure out where he lives." Makoto finishes his woeful tale, looking down to seek a reply from Haru, who is neck-deep in his stream.

Wordless, the river naiad watches him with blank eyes from below his lily pads, the light flush in his cheeks indicating that he'd gone off for a swim at some point during the story. Well, Makoto has always known that Haru was a quiet one, but it's disappointing that he doesn't have a single input on the dire situation.

"Haru, don't you have anything to say?" he asks hopefully, and is met with a blatant lack of concern. Haru continues peering from his stream, surveying him with heavy-lidded eyes, before saying flatly, "No. The forest doesn't concern me. I'm free, after all."

"H-Haru!" Makoto pulls a frown, the in-betweens of his gentle brows creasing as a disapproving edge bleeds onto his voice."You live here too!"

Haru simply shrugs, giving him a look that, if fed into the universal Haru-translator built in Makoto's brain, would emerge as _I don't really care_ , and Makoto suppresses a pained sigh, because he knows Haru cares—he does, of course he does.

"If you come with me, I promise to keep the deers and animals away from your stream for a week!"

His words hit bullseye.

"A...week?" Haru blinks slowly as he contemplates. He ducks back underwater, disappearing so that all that is visible are the tufts of his dark hair, rippling and pooling in the water in waves and waves.

"A whole week. No more sticky tongues in your water," Makoto smiles encouragingly.

Bubbles pull free from his lips as the river naiad sighs, as if disagreeing with Makoto would be a hassle in every possible way. A ripple breaks the still surface of his clear skin when he draws away from the water, gathering the flowing tresses of his amorphous torso together into legs that brush the forest ground, reflecting sunlight like morning dew.

"Fine, I'll come."

* * *

 **Rin**

 _On some days, it feels colder than usual—colder that he'd thought possible. He hunches deeper into himself, but it does not change the fact that even the frosted air feels flammable in his heavy lungs. He thinks of the sun and of how it's disappeared from his world, and can't help but wish that warmth isn't just a fading image to him. He knows that sometimes it burns, but the cold burns too, and he can no longer tell the difference. _ _  
___

 _There had once been a flickering **something** in his heart, but now his heart has been taken by the numb and time has stolen away what that something is._

 _He tries to pull a smile but it cracks on his lips like a broken charm._

 _The only thing he can try is to light a fire around himself but all the flame does is sting the insides of his eyes with freckles of gold. He breathes out ashes and steam, for he is a dragon, but how pathetic it is, to be unable to warm even himself._

 _Maybe the cold is inside him instead. He can no longer be sure._

 _And oh, some days he is so tired that he can barely open his eyes, even amidst the blaze that he has created around himself – a poor substitute for the sun outside. He tells himself that he needs to remember, that he needs to understand, but giving up is so helplessly easy when all his thoughts have deserted his weary mind._

 _No matter how hard he tries to break free of this slumber, his limbs feel heavy, as if they're aching for a sleep that will never quite sate him—and there is nothing he wants more than to be found._

* * *

The deity's home is relatively easy to locate.

Makoto asks around and hears from a family of sleepy badgers that a previously-unoccupied cavern far by the other end of the mountain has been making sounds—though no animal has been seen to enter. It's suspicious, slightly terrifying, and just the right place that a deity would take residence in.

True enough, the cavern echoes with low growls, rumbling darkly and chilling Makoto to the spine. He can't think of a single animal that can make a sound like that.

"I'll wait outside." Haru says, casting a detachedly-wary look into the gloom. "I smell fire. If I go in, I might evaporate."

"Ehhh?!" Makoto wails, blinking furiously as the cave lets another tired snore. "B-But—"

Haru gives him a pointed look. "I'll _evaporate_."

Making a sad noise at the back of his throat, Makoto shakes loose the leaves on his head and steps in.

The inside of the cavern is cold and dark, as any cavern would be. Makoto thinks decisively that he didn't like it at all. Water runs down its slick walls, dripping into the ground in discrete pools. He flinches as he turns at each fork, avoiding the jarring shards of stalagmites protruding from the grainy floor, like outstretched claws, spiking deep down the path.

The air turns markedly warmer as he descends, swallowed into the dismal darkness—an unwary prey wandering into the heartless jaws of a predator. There is a distinct humidity hanging in the air that he didn't expect, looming over him, reminiscent of heavy storm clouds on rainy days.

The darkness tightens its grip around his neck, and Makoto suppresses a frightened whimper.

 _I'm doing this for my forest, I'm doing this for my forest._ He repeats this over and over like a lucky prayer, eyes clenched tight as he feels his way down, trying not to slip on the wet stone floor. Even so, it does little to help settle his petrified soul, and each step is further away from an exit that he can no longer see.

* * *

The chamber he eventually arrives at is lit by fire, as Haru has predicted. Rings and rings of smoldering ember line the sides, flickering away in the dark, and here the heat is at its strongest, choking the air with fumes of char and ash.

But what catches his attention is not the burning circle, but the sleeping dragon curled right in the middle of the grainy floor.

Makoto's eyes go round.

 _God, of all things to find_.

The dragon is a deep incarnadine, flaming from the pinnacle of its horns to the tip of its tail. Fire creeps along the edges of its chest, a marked red akin to that of the blazing sun, before gradually giving way to the bright salmon of vibrant rose quartz on the sides of its tail. Its claws are tinted with the faintest brown of dried blood, and Makoto notices with a shudder that its arms alone are bigger than him and Haru combined.

He bites back a silent whimper.

"Um," Makoto starts, his voice a timid echo amidst the loud rumble of the dragon's exhales. "H-Hello?"

The slow tempo of the dragon's breath does not change. It does not move from where it lies on the cavern floor—and that is to be expected, really. He should've raised his voice. Even so, he is not sure of the repercussions for disturbing a god's slumber, and he honestly doesn't want to find out, either.

Just as Makoto turns to leave as discreetly as he can, the dragon opens a heavy-lidded eye and exhales softly, vapour billowing into the room like a cloud, coating them both in its hazy density.

"I'm Matsuoka Rin," it says, in an undercurrent of a growl that sends icicles spiking up Makoto's spine, "Deity of this mountain and land."

Steel-wrought eyes of charred scarlet and coagulated blood dilate, piercing deep into Makoto, and the dragon blinks once, twice, lazily.

"And who the hell might you be, bold little nymph?"

* * *

 **I'M SO SORRY IT'S BOTH LATE AND EFFIN' TERRIBLE ;;;w;;; Part 2 will be up soon!**


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